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^000088Master Chef Orleans^000000

^ff1493XX Month XX Day: Prontera Palace Cooking Competition^000000


Charles Orleans, a 17 year old male.
He's come to the capital city from Payon, a distant rustic village, to participate in 
Prontera Palace's Cooking Competition in a few days. 

"Gee willikers, this city sure is huge! Let's go, PiPi!"

Well, you may have noticed the lack of realism in the dialog. Who says "Gee willikers," 
or names his dog PiPi? He's the stereotypical hero of this stereotypical teen comic story 
of a country boy experiencing the big city for the first time.

"Oh, who's this? Aren't you Charles Orleans?"
"Oh, Mr. Andrei!"

Again, another typical teen comic convention: the main character just happens to meet 
one of his old friends as soon as he steps foot in the city. Those guys always have really 
cool names like Richter, Trevor, Grant, or Julius. Sadly, this is Andrei's only 
appearance, but he does provide some valuable exposition.

"Gosh, it's been years, hasn't it? Oh, are you going to be in Prontera Palace's 
Cooking Competition? Thousands of talent chefs from all over the world are going to 
be there, but I really think you've got a chance! Ever since we were kids, you were always 
so good at cooking!"

Did you see that? You see what just happened? This guy is just an extra, but he knows 
what he's doing. He's taken care to reveal a bit of the main character's background, and 
even set up the challenge that awaits him. He's only got a few seconds of screen time, 
so to speak, but Andrei's certainly making the most of it. It's also pretty lucky that 
he happened to know exactly why Charles Orleans has come to Prontera: it's just one 
coincidence after another in these stories.

"Yes, I'm going to become the palace chef for sure!"

Right, right, the protagonist is usually a positive, optimisitc type of character in 
these stories. It wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination if his wide eyes, sparkling 
with undying hope, took up half of his face. Of course, the passerby that don't have 
anything to do with this boy and probably didn't care about the cooking contest 
at the beginning start muttering amongst themselves...

"That boy? Chef of the Palace?"
"Impossible... He'll never make it!"
"He's just a kid, no older than my own son!"
"Crazy country bumpkins and their crazy ideas..."
"Hah! How dare you follow your dreams! Give it up. Go home and be a family man!"

An arrogant commanding voice suddenly rings out through the deafening buzz of 
the peanut gallery. Yes, it's time for the main antagonist to make his entrance!

"Hmpf."

They always have to look so cool by showing so much disdain, don't they?

"Hmpf. I'd be suprised if you could even make it past the preliminaries... Orleans."

The crowd frantically searches for the source of the voice when suddenly--Pushhaaaa!--
a bright flash of light and the elegant strumming of a harp reveal the appearance of 
a muscular, but not too muscular, handsome boy that is exactly 1.3 times 
as tall as our protagonist.  

Taller, good looking boys are the main rivals that had some past relationship with
the hero, usually a best friend. In these teen stories, you can generally tell 
a character's relationship to the protagonist by age, gender, and looks. Older men are 
usually rivals, and are secretly the hero's father or elder brother, 
or were the hero's father's best friend at the very least. All girls end up in love with
the hero at the end of the story, even if they start out as enemies. The only exception is 
if the girl is ugly: these poor fools usually end up dying. Ugly men, naturally, are enemies 
hat also get killed off. 

Anyway, the main rival appears and Orleans dramatically recognizes him.

"Kiel? Kiel, is that really you? I thought you were dead!"

In response, the peanut gallery starts muttering amongst themselves so that we can learn 
a bit more about Kiel's background.

"Kiel? Could he be the legendary Kiel?"
"Kiel? Isn't he the youngest person to become a royal chef in the history of royal chefs?"
"I heard that no man alive can outcook him! They call him the demon of cooking!"
"Didn't he disappear years ago in that horrible tragedy?"

Then, Kiel's menacing theme music begins to play as he taunts the hapless hero.

"Hmpf! You haven't changed in the ten years since I've last seen you, Orleans!"
"K-Kiel...!"
"You will lose the cooking contest because I will win! Give up now 
while you still have the chance!"

Orleans, being the optimistic yet naive hero type, is wounded more by these words of 
challenge than any curse upon his family. Of course, he's such a nice guy that he just 
sort of simmers there until he can think of something to say.

"Is it really true? That you cheated to become the royal chef?! 
Tell me that's a lie, Kiel!"
"Hmpf. I don't care. Believe what you want."

We all want to believe Kiel is a bad guy because of his arrogance, but later we'll 
probably learn that he won the title of palace chef fairly to redeem his character. 
Details of his painful past, maybe some story of some girl he loved that he lost, 
will also be revealed. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. In any case, we want to 
establish Kiel as somebody whose cooking skills are superior to our hero's, 
at least before the training montage.

"It doesn't matter whether you think I won fairly or not. 
The question remains: me or you?" 
"Kiel!"
"If you have a problem accepting that I'm a better chef than you, then prove that 
you do more than just scramble eggs. I hope to see you in the competition in three days 
if you can even get that far. Heh. What recipe could you possibly cook to rival my own? 
Hahahahahaha!"

Everyone loves an underdog, so the crowd will be respect and fear Kiel, and will be 
rooting for Oreans and his little dog PiPi. By now, Orleans's fighting spirit has probably 
been inflamed. 

The scene changes now, and we're suddenly in Kiel's room. He's alone and looking out 
the window, holding a glass of fine wine. Never mind that he's only about 
seventeen years old: this is just a fantasy story.

"Orleans... I've been waiting for this day. You're the only one that can offer me 
a decent challenge. I don't believe that I really deserve the title of greatest chef 
in the world until I can defeat you. These three days... will seem like eternity. 
Your cooking may be effused with the light of love, but I shall show you the true power of 
cooking with the power of loneliness!"

Now we've established that Kiel and Orleans are just about equal in cooking ability: 
it's only a matter of whose idealogy is best in the kitchen. This raises some questions: 
what does Kiel mean by the power of loneliness? Again, he's probably suffered 
some emotional scars that make him much more sympathetic as this story continues. 

The scenes returns to our hero Orleans, looking determined and driven, 
but suffering from doubt. 

"Fish? Meat? Vegetables? No, it can't be that simple. I can't win the chef content by counting on my ingredients. What... What recipe should I cook?"

A deep voice suddenly responds to his question.

"You wish to have a special recipe for the cooking contest?"

Orleans turns to look in the direction of the voice, we probably have a seen of two pairs of blazing eyes glaring at each other for dramatic impact, and he sees this old, shabbily dressed guy holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

"Old man... Just who are you?"
"Fifty years ago, a young talented chef, just like you, earned the title of royal chef 
after defeating all of his opponents in the cooking competition. However, he was satisfied 
with his success and didn't keep the job. He left on a journey to discover 
the true way of cooking."
"N-no way! A-are you really...?"
"Of course not. I was just one of his assistants."
"Wh... What...?"
"Still... I can help you. I know what recipe that legendary chef cooked to win. 
But let me warn you: you'll be making this dish at the risk of your own life."
"Please! Tell me! I'm... I'm not afraid of death!"
"The winning dish was... Baphomet Head Broth and Rice."

Baphomet?! Now there's a twist.

"Tell me old man... How do I cook it?"
"First, you need must hunt Baphomet in the Prontera Maze. Each time you kill one, you will 
have a one out of ten thousand chance of obtaining its fabled Baphomet Helm. 
Then... You must find a reasonably attractive, but not too sexy, woman in her twenties, 
and have her wear the helm for five hourse. Take this helm, boil it in water at 
97.9 degrees Celsius for twenty-one hours. Sprinkle salt and pepper to taste, 
add choppped green peppers, and serve the broth with rice and noodles."

Orleans stands in a moment of shocked silence. Then he yells,

"Damn it! Th-that's impossible! How am I going to find a reasonably attractive woman 
in her twenties?! I... I don't think I can do this!"
"Well... It's either that, or you can go back home to the country. 
Did you really come this far just to run away?"

We know Orleans's answer when the scene changes, and we see him fully armored 
at the entrance to the Prontera Maze. He strolls in calmly with sword in hand as 
Side Winders and Hunter Flies being to swarm him.

"I don't have time for you guys! Begone!"

He swings his sword downward, cleaving the ground and distorting the air 
with a crash of thunder in lightning. We know that it doesn't make sense for him 
to have this much power, but this is all fantasy. Anyway, he treks 
through the entire maze, vanquishing all the monsters, and then he enters the final room 
where Baphomet awaits.

"Baphomet must be inside!"

He steps forward into this dark room, bracing himself for battle, when he sees 
a glamourous, smiling woman standing over a slain Baphomet. The dazzling sunlight shines 
through the trees and dances on her face. A majestic Baphomet Helm lies next to her feet.

"No way... Did she defeat Baphomet on her own? Wait! Isn't that... It's the helm!"

Orleans is stunned into silence as the beautiful twenty-something woman looks deep into his eyes. Finally, she speaks.
 
"Are you an adventurer?"

Her soft, gentle voice is more than he can bear. Orleans nodded slowly--if he is having 
a dream, he refuses to wake up.

"Do you... Do you think you can spare me a Butterfly Wing? I've been lost in this maze 
for about five hours..."

Orleans lowers his head, and thinks for a moment. His eyes widen with realization, 
and he smiles mischievously at her.

"I think there's a way that we can both help each other. But first, would you be willing 
to part with that helm...?"

 - To be continued
